


A Baby in The Shadow

by bela013



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-10
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-03 09:20:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if that babe was real? What if the shadow never were? What if?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He could see the crown of the child’s head, and for a moment, he thought that the babe's black head was something more out of the ordinary. 

_It wasn't._

As that tiny body felt and produced the loudest shrill he has ever heard, he knew that was nothing mere simple babe.

It was in a daze, a daze that took over her too, that he helped the red woman with the cord and after birth.

_This was wrong._

She was desperate, all her confident bleed throw her thighs. And soon her cries joined the ones of the babe. A black haired babe.

'No. No. No.' whispering wasn't so secretive in the silence of the night. Silence falls as a bare breast is given to the screaming shadow in her arms. That woman wasn't the same he almost kill not long ago. She looked young. Young and wild.

'How did this happen?' _what a stupid question smuggler, you have seven sons, you know how babes are made._

'This isn't right...' power was slipping from her, and when her eyes set on mine, the were... they weren't red. 'It wasn't supposed to be like this.'


	2. Chapter 1

'Take the cape woman' she seemed to regard me for the first time since this madness started.

'I have to go...' hair like blood, everywhere on her, around her, wrapping the babe. _Can I even call that a babe? It looked like a drowned kitten, all wet and dirty._ 'I can't stay!' her fire was back, but it didn't make the same impression that it did before. Not after I saw her tear stained face, her frail side, full with fear and confusion.

'Here, you certainly can't.' I could use this, not even her hot skin bothered me when I hoisted her back on the boat. The red woman was a mere woman after all, and I wasn't afraid of women.

It was in silence that I rowed back to camp, a silence that took very long for her to break.

'I can't come back.'

'You can't stay, you can't come back. Make up you mind woman.'

'I failed...' _at what?_ 'I failed.'

'And gave birth to a bastard while you were at it.' no denials, just tears falling on that black haired head.

'What will I do-'

'You'll show it to him.' _and stop looking at me like that._ The wounded look does little when I know what you're capable of.

I knew who that babe belonged to, and even bastard deserved to be seen by their father's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a short chapter, but I suck even more in long chapters.


	3. Chapter 2

'No. We can't' her eyes switched to a different light. Not pain, but not her burning fire, a mixture of the two. 'He'll have no use for- We can't.

'What do you mean by no use?' was she madder than I thought, she was making no sense.

'Stannis is a king. A man with honor. He can't have a bastard.'  _and I used to think the same_ .

'Yet, here you are with your... babe.' again with that look. My cape around that tiny thing, with only fine black hair poking out.

'He mustn't know. It will break him.' how fascinating it was to see the red priestess mask slip of her face. It was terrifying to know there was a real woman after all that power. 'We are at war. The last thing we need is a broken king.'

'And what to do you suggest? That we trow your little cargo at the sea?' she was a mother too, for her eyes screamed bloody murder at me by the mere mention of her child.

'That's where you'll help me' again, her eyes seamed to bore into me 'Claim it as your bastard'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an accident recently, and it caused me to be stuck in the hospital for two months or more. I' may help me update more.


	4. Chapter 3

'Do you have any idea in what you're proposing? I have a wife!'

'And so does Stannis, But he's the king, and you're all but a smuggler turned knight' her comment shouldn't, but it hurt anyway.

'And a smuggler can have bastards.'

'A king could too. If only to make it an heir.'

'So why not tel-'

'But girls are no heirs,' no they're not. The king had one girl already. He had no reason for one more. 'and from where I come from, girls are a burden. Girls are sold.' she stroked the babe's cheek with a distant look on her, her mind was a world away. And I knew that no matter what, I'd help. Not the witch, and not the woman, but I'd help the mother and her child.

'Only one problem. She has Baratheon written all over her. From her hair to her little jaw. This lie will convince no one.'

'I have my ways, ser. And once we are on land, I shall take care of it.' two pair of eyes seamed to regard him. Red and blue. How come the newborn was staring right into his eyes was lost to him. Maybe it was all but a little witch too. 'Are you going to help us?'

'You give me little choice.' I sigh in defeat, a new born already got me wrapped around her little finger. 'And hold her properly, you don't want the cape to fall off and for her to catch a cold.'

'She's everything but cold with me around.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you. New chapter.


	5. Chapter 4

Once in land, I help her out of the boat, more like hoisting her and the baby out of it. Her heat is back, but not enought to burn him. She was probably dousing down her flames for the babe.

'We are on land, now. What will you do about her Baratheon looks?'

'First, you will stop talking. Never bring this up. Not when we're alone. Not when we're in the middle of the sea. Never. Bring. This. Up.' in spite her words, the tone they were delivered was meant to sooth a baby, especially with that calm look upon her. My cheeks burn with embarrassment. She was right, no secret was safe, even shadows had ears nowadays. 'And second, you must hold her.'

She was bigger than before, more than that drowned kitten that she was, more than a new born. If I were to compare her to my sons, I'd say she was a good three months of age. It was just one more question that he stored in the back of his mind, a question for when things were at least settled.

Melisandre's hands were on us. One caressing the my face and another running it's fingers on soft baby hair. There was no real danger, for once I felt her magic running throw me and for once I wasn't scared.

'A mother's hymn. There are no words, only the love towards one's child.' hearing her explain things to me, made me realize that this wasn't her dragging me to her side. It was me dragging her to mine.

I held the protection of her child on my hands. And as I saw her fine black hair turn brown like mine, I knew that I held more than that. I held red power too.


	6. Chapter 5

She look mine. From her pretty little nose, to her soft brown hair. She felt mine, especially as her also brown eyes meet mine and a toothless smile is given to me.

'You've birthed a strange babe, woman' the witch gives out a mixture between a laugh and a angry huff as she plucks the little girl out of my arms.

'So you fathered a strange babe, smuggler' marching to the camp, I hear the echo of her accent, how she makes the words seam longer. 'And her name is Melony'

'Shouldn't I have a say in this?' catching up with her long strides, I see we're headed for Stannis tent. Not by a common way either, she walked in the shadows, avoiding all people and glances. The only reason she might have needed me today was to row the boat, for she was stealing herself and a babe in a royal camp without earning a single glance from the guard.

'She's a bastard, and I went through the birthing pains. I'll name my child whatever I please.' she whispered back to me, and I don't even want to fight it. Little Melony may look like all my sons, but I had no right in naming her. The origin of her name was just something more to ask the red woman when this night was over.

We stand by the flap of Stannis tent, sharing a last look before braving inside.


	7. Chapter 6

Just by looking at them, he got himself stuck between a rock and a hard place. Or should he try to light up the moment and say a warm place instead? But it was no use, for all he could see was mother and child, her image of witch and priestess was forever tainted for her tear stained face and soft babe, that did nothing beyond look around and gurgle for its mother when in my arms.

Our talk with Stannis was hard, his pure look of disapproval and disappointment directed to her would be enough to upset him in her behalf, if that same look wasn't soon directed at him too. So all was left of him was to guide a lost looking Melisandre and a babe that was far to big for a new born to her own tent, but it didn't take him long to find a familiar brown haired head trailing after them. As the red woman plucked her child - _our child, remember that, smuggler_ \- out of his arms and disappeared behind the red fold of her tent, a small hand grabbed a hold of his vest, pulling him back to the shadows.

'Father' it was Devan, my brave little boy, the one who probably heard the whole of the exchange with the king. And how luck I was in not finding in those eyes, in the eyes that were just like mine, the same look that I found on the ones of the king. I knew my boy, of how fond he was of the red woman, and that even if he was to be upset with his father for siring a bastard, he would still walk with the witch and protect his made to be little sister. With all of this in mind, I hug him. I hug him for being a good son, a far better son that I will ever deserve, and for being a good boy and a soon to be good man, my little Devan. 'What about them, father?'

'I'll see to that, Devan. Worry only about your safety, son, I will take care of it all.' with a last squeeze in his shoulders, I let him go back to his duty towards the king, and I turn back to the red tent.


	8. Chapter 7

The flaps made little noise as they were pushed aside, proving a better asset for an old thief, that big oak door that creaked and groaned at every little thing. But there was little point in trying to be furtive now, for the owner of the tent was probably waiting for him, she's always waiting, I guess it was an habit of those who know everything. _Not everything_.

Tears of a woman and the wails of a child fill his mind, and as if his memories were acting as a summoning charm, she appears, but not as I expected. Not that I should be surprised with it, not knowing what was going to happen next was a rule of mine when I was pressed by her presence. And judging by the small bundle in her arms, I should prepare myself for a life time of surprises.

The red of her clothes didn't clash as they used to with her pale white skin, now, it looked more like blood on a blade, and quite fitting for all her red priestess persona, the skin was all copper now, making her look like a real foreigner for the first time. The face was the same, still round and a bit heart shaped, but the hair that framed her head like a halo was pitch black, strait and heavy. On a second though, she wasn't from across the Narrow Sea anymore, she was like a Dornish woman, even her personality fit, for those women of the South bowed their heads to no man. And those eyes were not as scary as they once were, for there wasn't the color of blood that painted them, but forest green.

'I suppose you'll have to get used to this face of mine, Davos' stepping closer to me, she deposit Melony in my experienced arms, all to turn back to a large oak trunk, and not to the hearth as I expected to. 'Bearing a child is quite tiring, and I have more important things to direct my magic to, than to keep a familiar look for your comfort only' trowing a toothy smile over her shoulder, making it possible to imagine her as wife, my wife even.

I sit in the camp bed that she has, even if great part of it is filled with old scrolls and tomes. The little girl in arms feel so heavy, not like a new born at all, not such a big surprise now, unlike from when I first held her, for now I had the calmness to analyze it all. The he thought that babe was like that since her mother's womb, showing in a flat stomach from out of thin air, but upon seeing the witch's secret face, he concluded that the curve of her figure was always there. And if he was as lucky as he thought he was, his pretend daughter was just like her mother, and after being forced to look unlike herself, she must have rebelled and decided to look as strong as she was.

Even so, there was nothing very powerful in that toothless yawn, or sleepy eyes. So I do what I always did to all my little boys, and kiss her brow as Melisandre comes back with a light blue mantle. We put Melony to bed among books and old looking scrolls, making myself so room by the foot of her bed, for I was still a mere man, unlike red witches and their nonexistent sleeping habits.


	9. Chapter 8

He dreamed of many things, of things he couldn't even remember, and others that he would never forget. He revived the birth of Melony, but in it's place was no human child, but a dark mass, a shadow of six feet tall, that loomed over him and over its mother. I saw Melisandre at the floor, her dark skin was lifeless and blood flowed from her tights like a river. I saw Stannis, by the side of a throne made of cold stone, with no shadow at his feet. And I saw myself, cradling the burned and bloated corpses of my fallen sons.

Opening his eyes to reality, he found himself not covered in decayed flesh, but with a soft looking and round faced daughter at his chest. As her tiny body moved at each breath, his eyes stung with tears that rounded them, and the same crippling fear that crushed him at the end of the Battle of Blackwater, the fear of losing the remaining pieces of him that he made with his wife.

That girl wasn't even his, and when the witch proposed him with the idea of taking her, he cursed her for lack of morals and respect for his true born sons. But in the end, what was a true burn son for, if not for to follow into a honorable path, to have their own ships, to become knights of their own right and bear their own son? Which raised one more question, the question that echoed in his mind as soft brown hair was moved with the air that came out of his mouth, what were daughters for?

Does a good father find a good marriage for their little girls? Or does he try to find a simple man who wouldn't take her away and would allow her father to keep her under his paternal watch forever? Do lords care for their children after they find out that the little thing that the mid wife had just placed in his arms had no cock between their legs? And what a man could or would do for their bastard daughters, since they will never be able to smuggle them into their house hold as a private sword or an stable boy, without raising the jealousy and fury of their lawful wives?

For the love of the Mother! Why am I crying? Melony is the king's bastard daughter, as useless as an heir as his true born daughter. He wouldn't want her. No man would want her. But the mere thought of having her ripped away from my arms, of having Stannis or the witch claim that she isn't mine by blood... I cry openly now, and cradle Melony in my chest, war was brewing all over Westeros, and he would rather kill himself that to let one more of his children, even a fake one, be consumed my it.


End file.
